Bubbles
by dytabytes
Summary: Jean-Paul watches the beginnings of a bubble war and remembers.


Bubbles

It was a gorgeous summer afternoon. The sun was a pleasant source of heat now, having mellowed in the late afternoon. The students of the Xavier Institute had taken advantage of this, and were now wreaking mayhem in and _on_ the great outdoors.

Jean-Paul Beaubier rested on one of the stone benches facing the "yard" that currently functioned as a playground for the students. Of course this yard was different from most yards, being well-landscaped and tastefully studded with trees, shrubbery and statues. After all, this was a school which housed, among other people, Charles Xavier, Warren Worthington III and Emma Frost. If anything had been less than pristinely elegant before, it wouldn't have stayed that way for long.

Jean-Paul snorted at this thought.

_The airs of the upper-class. And they call _me _snotty._

His train of thought was cut off as loud laughter rolled through the air. Apparently one of the children had found the bubble juice. Bubble blowers were being waved about madly, and Jean-Paul watched in amusement as students ran around alternately trying to catch or pop their iridescent creations. The chaos soon escalated as some of the X-men joined the fun under the guise of 'supervision'. Paige Guthrie could almost blend in with the students, being so young herself, and as Kurt Wagner "Bamf"-ed around, his signature magenta-smoke filled the air with the scent of brimstone. The man who truly caught Jean-Paul's attention though, was Bobby Drake. "Iceman" had been withdrawn and moody lately, but at the moment he was smiling for the first time in ages.

Jean-Paul decided that he liked it when Bobby smiled.

The object of Jean-Paul's attention was busy trying to freeze the bubbles before they popped, although he hadn't succeeded yet. The fragile little orbs would start to freeze, but soon caved in. Their walls were simply too thin to stay whole. Bobby kept trying though, and soon a crease developed between his eyebrows as he pouted in concentration.

Jean-Paul immediately decided that he liked it when Bobby frowned too.

So engrossed was Jean-Paul in watching the object of his desires that a tentative tap on his shoulder took him by suprise. Jean-Paul turned to meet the eyes of his student, Victor, also known as Anole. The green teenager held out a bubble blower with a half-grin.

"You looked a little lonely, sir."

Almost as soon as Jean-Paul took the little bottle, Victor was pulled back into the game by his teammates. After all, the bubble wars were getting fierce now, and the sky was filled with little rainbows.

Jean Paul smiled at the kind gesture, and thought back to a moment from his childhood.

_Mama never let him blow out candles on his birthday. She said that candles were supposed to be lit, not extinguished, whatever that word meant. Mama used big words a lot. It made her special._

Still, Jean-Paul had really wanted to blow out candles on his birthday cake. That's what all the other kids did, and anyway, how was he supposed to get wishes if he didn't blow out the candles?

Mama had smiled and taken him out to the back yard.

"Watch." 

She pulled a bottle from one of her pant pockets, then un-screwed the cap to reveal a bubble stick.

"This _is how you make wishes."_

Mama murmured softly into the bubble ring, and Jean-Paul watched as it filled with her words. Eventually, the bubble lifted off of the stick. Mother and son watched quietly as it floated into the distance.

"See, love? Instead of blowing your wishes out in smoke, let them fly freely into the sky."  


Jean-Paul had stopped blowing bubbles years ago. Wishes could never come true. That's why they were wishes, not goals. Still, he had already opened the bottle automatically, and the bubbles-to-be were winking at him. Surely it wouldn't hurt to try one last time.

If anyone was watching, they would have seen Jean-Paul whisper his wish into the little bubble.

Had they watched a little longer, they would have seen it fly off into the sky as Jean-Paul lifted himself up off the bench to prevent his errant students from killing each other.

And, had they stayed even after that, watching, they would have seen the little bubble fly on the gentle breeze to land delicately on Bobby Drake. It rested for a fraction of a moment, then burst.

An Afterthought

Bobby paused in the middle of his merry-making. He could have sworn he heard someone whisper "-love you", but it must have been the breeze.


End file.
